


Measuring Up

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-09-30
Updated: 1999-09-30
Packaged: 2018-11-20 11:18:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11334639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: A not-so-surly guy goes shopping and meets a very helpful sales clerk.





	Measuring Up

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Measuring Up by m. butterfly

Measuring Up (1/1)  
by m. butterfly  
  
Rating: NC-17 for explicit m/m sex, language  
Category: Sk/? Slash  
Spoilers: Not a one  
Archive: Anywhere--just leave my name on it  
Summary: A not-so-surly guy goes shopping and meets a very helpful sales clerk.  
Author's notes: I've had this silly, pointless, smutty thing running around in my head for a while now, so I figured it was about time I exorcised it. (A literary masterpiece it ain't.) It's set in Season Six, sometime between "The Beginning" and "SR 819"--and I know I'm not fooling anyone! Extravagant thanks to Lucy Snowe, International Woman of Mystery, for her boundless enthusiasm and matchless beta-reading skills, and to Michael, Susan and Sue for putting up with me. Feedback appreciated (and cheerfully answered) at .  
Disclaimer: The characters portrayed in the following belong to Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions and Fox Broadcasting. This is a work of fiction intended only for private amusement (if you're into that kind of thing).

* * *

Measuring Up  
by m. butterfly

The clerk spotted his quarry the moment he entered the all-but-empty store. A tall, balding hunk, wearing a short black leather coat over faded jeans. Expensive wirerims made him look scholarly, a tad stern, perhaps. But his chocolate-brown eyes held the promise of something entirely different.

"Need any help?" It wasn't the clerk's style to be obsequious. But his dazzling smile and bold, direct gaze made it clear he was ready to provide the utmost in friendly customer service.

The man lifted his eyebrows infinitesimally. "I'm looking for a pair of dark grey dress slacks. Pleated, no cuffs."

Ah, a man who knew what he wanted. The clerk liked that.

"We can do that." He stepped back and took a longer-than-necessary look at the potential buyer. "Hmmmm. I'd say you're a 32, maybe a 34, depending on the make or the cut."

"Very good."

The clerk shrugged with false modesty. "Just doing my job," he said, raising the volume a couple of decibels for the eavesdropping manager's benefit. "Come with me, sir."

He led the way to the dress pants section and selected several pairs before ushering the man into a tastefully appointed fitting room. He locked the door behind them, then removed and hung up his own suit jacket. "I should measure you first before you try anything on. Let me help you with your coat."

Beneath the fragrant outer garment, the customer was wearing a tight, dark green T-shirt that hugged massive shoulders and framed a powerful neck. But it was the way it accentuated the chiselled torso and well-developed biceps that lit a fire in the clerk's groin. Under different circumstances he would have let out a wolf-whistle. Instead, he resisted the overwhelming urge and busied himself with hanging up the coat next to the assortment of trousers.

"Shoes and jeans next," he said cheerfully.

The man did as he was told and, after a momentary hesitation, removed his socks as well.

God, what a sight! He was wearing small black briefs, a blend of cotton and lycra that fit him like a suntan. The hem of the T-shirt was short enough to give the clerk a perfectly acceptable view of the goods. He had gorgeous legs--miles long and sinewy, with just the right amount of hair. Even his damned feet were sexy.

Half anxious, half ravenous, the salesman snatched the measuring tape from its hook on the wall. Stepping behind the semi-naked customer, he wrapped the tape around the trim waist, under the T-shirt, subtly allowing his fingers to brush against the smooth, satiny skin. He then walked around to face the man and dropped to one knee.

"Feet apart please, sir."

Wordlessly, the customer folded his arms across his impressive chest and adjusted his stance.

Holding one end of the tape, the clerk placed it high up on the inside of one muscular thigh. The soft, curling hairs tickled his palm, which rested just a fraction below the pouch of the clingy briefs. As he drew the other end of the tape to the floor to measure the inseam, he flexed his top hand so that it made sly contact with cotton-encased flesh.

He rose carefully, touching the solid warmth for as long as he dared. When he was back at full height, he found himself staring directly into sparkling eyes.

"Let's start with these," he suggested, surprised how calm he sounded as he handed over one of the pairs of trousers he'd selected.

"Sure." The voice was like Turkish coffee--rich and dark and strong. "Can you give me a hand?"

The clerk stood close, holding the man's elbow to help keep his balance. Ever accommodating, he splayed the fingers of his other hand across the broad back for even further support.

Once the pants were on, the customer faced the three-panelled mirror and stood motionless, his arms dangling at his sides. "Well?"

"Sir?"

"I think these would look better if they were done up."

Swallowing the rapidly beating heart that had migrated to his throat, the clerk stood directly behind his customer, crotch to buttocks, and reached around his middle. Slowly, he fastened the button, then closed the zipper. He watched, fascinated, as his own breath gently moved the hair on back of the man's neck.

"How's that?"

Their eyes locked in the mirror.

"I like it. Very much." The dark voice poured over him like molasses. "But I think the shirt's in the way, don't you?"

"Yes, Sir. Most definitely," he replied with studied deference. He grabbed two fistfuls of green cotton. "May I?"

"Please." The customer removed his glasses and set them down before raising his arms above his head. The T-shirt came off in one fluid motion, and he put the wirerims back on.

"Cold, sir?" The clerk nodded at strawberry nipples standing erect in a lush nest of salt-and-pepper hair.

"I'm fine."

You certainly are, the clerk thought, as he stared brazenly at the magnificent chest. He finally placed his hands on the man's hips. "If you'll turn around," he said, guiding him until they were nose to nose, "we can see how they fit from behind."

Grasping the other's upper arms, the man simply nodded and looked back over his shoulder at their reflection. The clerk's hands were resting against the small of his back, just above his buttocks. All they needed was some slow, sultry music and they could be dancing.

The long, tapered fingers slid luxuriously down to the customer's ass, not gripping or grabbing, just smoothing the soft wool over firm muscles. "See? Perfect." When he pressed his thumbs along the centre seam, driving the fabric into the cleft between taut cheeks, he felt the man's cock jerk against his leg.

Still looking in the mirror, the customer's gaze shifted from the roving hands on his butt to the clerk's determined face.

"I want to check those pleats." The salesman smoothly rotated the man back to his original position and stood flush against him, his front melting into his customer's broad back. He adjusted his hips until his own stirring cock found the groove his thumbs had been exploring earlier, then snaked his hands around to the fly of the customer's pants.

Both sets of eyes were glued to the reflected image of the clerk's fingers as they glided fluidly over the huge bulge that was straining the fine Italian fabric.

The salesman set chin on the man's shoulder. "They fit very nicely around the waist," he said as he flattened his palms against the flat belly. The belly turned positively concave as the clerk's hands slid under the waistband of the pants, then the briefs. Both men gasped as cool fingertips made contact with hot erectile tissue.

The clerk pursed his lips at the customer's ear. "But I won't be able to hem these properly if we don't do something about--" He squeezed the granite cock. "--this."

"Do what you have to do," the man whispered hoarsely.

The clerk undid the trousers and let them slither to the floor. Taking a breath, he pushed the customer's briefs over his hips, freeing the long-suffering cock. He knelt behind the man and leaned in so they were cheek to cheek, then slid the briefs down, down...

Wearing nothing but his glasses and a dreamy look on his face, the customer stepped out of the puddle of clothing at his feet. "Hurry," he breathed.

The clerk kneewalked around the man and reached up to pinch and rub his nipples. At the same time, he began kissing and licking the man's abdomen, inner thighs, the silky skin connecting leg to trunk, the heavy sac--everything but his glorious sex.

The man bit back a moan and captured the dark head, holding it still while he aimed himself at the luscious mouth. He shivered pleasantly as full lips engulfed first the crown of his cock, then its length. The clerk's body was positioned so that the customer could look into the mirror and see himself being sucked off from three different angles.

And the clerk was skilful, teasing the crack of the man's ass with his fingers and kneading his balls while gobbling him down. The customer was mesmerized by the way the salesman's throat worked, the way his face contorted to accommodate the ample erection.

When the kneeling man sensed climax was approaching, he increased the intensity of his sucking and fondling.

The customer buried his hands in the other's hair and, with a quiet grunt that belied his frantic emotional state, came forcefully, filling the clerk's mouth and throat.

Only after doing a thorough job of cleaning the softening cock with his tongue did the salesman release it. Silently, he helped the customer dress, and was rewarded with a kiss that kicked his libido back into overdrive. While a mighty arm held him tightly, large but nimble fingers undid his pants and closed around his erection.

Still lost in the kiss, the clerk suddenly found himself sitting in the fitting room's only chair, with knees apart and clothing at half-staff. The man ran one hand up under the dress shirt and thumbed the nipples he discovered there into hard little pleasure points. With the other hand, he fed the salesman's beautiful cock into his mouth and drank it down.

"Oh, God!" the clerk groaned. He gripped the arms of the chair and slumped lower, pushing himself deeper into the blissful inferno. His eyes flew open when he felt a strong hand clamp across his mouth. Jesus, he'd forgotten where he was!

Effectively muzzled, he surrendered to the milking mouth and magical fingers, achieving orgasm with dizzying speed. It was several minutes before the flashing bolts of colour stopped flickering beneath his eyelids, before it was safe for the fingers to be removed from his lips.

The customer wrapped his arms around the clerk's slender waist, placed his ear against the beating heart. But only for a few moments. "Come on," he said. "Let's put you back together."

The other man took the hand that was offered him and was pulled to his feet, then tucked back into his clothes like an errant child.

When they were both presentable, the customer placed his hands firmly on the clerk's shoulders and looked him in the eye. "I can't believe I let you talk me into this. But I suppose insanity's a given when a man my age falls in love "

"Hey, you liked it, right?"

He sighed. "Yeah, I liked it."

"See? A little excitement's good for you now and then."

"Excitement? Fox, you're on a case and we just had sex! In a public changeroom, for Christ's sake!"

Mulder clasped his hands behind Skinner's neck and kissed the tip of his nose. "This is the most bullshit undercover assignment I've ever been on. I've been playing shirt-and-tie jockey for four nights running, and not a goddamned thing's happened! If it turns out this place actually does launder money for the IRA, I'll never eat another sunflower seed again."

Keeping his voice low, Skinner kissed him back. "Look, with our luck, something could have happened tonight. I can just hear Kersh now: 'Where were you when all hell broke loose, Agent Mulder?'" He switched to a falsetto--"'In the fitting room, Sir. Blowing AD Skinner.'"--which earned him a playful cuff to the head.

"Don't quit your day job, Walter." Mulder helped him on with his coat. "Gonna wait up for me?"

"It's Saturday night. What do you think?"

The agent put his own suit jacket back on and grinned. "Yeah, I guess you will." This time he kissed Skinner's lips. "See ya later."

The AD paused at the doorway. "I'm not going yet." When Mulder frowned, clearly puzzled, Skinner pointed to the discarded dress pants. "Don't I have to pay before they'll hem them?"

Mulder gaped at him. "You mean you want them?"

"They're just what I was looking for." He grinned. "Besides, I don't want to be one of those shoppers who has the clerk jump through hoops for him and then doesn't buy anything."

"'Jump through hoops.' So that's what they call it, huh? I thought it was called giving he--"

Skinner silenced him with a final kiss. "God, you're such a brat! We'd better get out of here before someone comes looking for you." He rolled his eyes. "If the taxpayers only knew how their money was being spent..."

As Skinner followed his lover from the fitting room to the cash register, he hoped Mulder's next undercover assignment would be with a police department or a branch of the services.

Because having sex with Mulder in uniform was another one of his secret fantasies. And, like the one he'd just fulfilled, he was confident that he'd come up with a way to let Mulder think it was all his idea. 

Fini  
March 17, 1999


End file.
